


kingdom lights shine

by violetwreaths



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M, Series of Vignettes, compliant with harry potter canon, they both teach muggle studies, written with outside perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 14:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetwreaths/pseuds/violetwreaths
Summary: The students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry do many things well. However, one of those happens to be spying. While the Boy Who Lived may be the most dramatic thing to happen, it's far from the only thing to see in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.or; a running chronicle of how the student body of Hogwarts perceives the rather odd dynamic between beloved teachers, Professor Fell and Professor Crowley.





	kingdom lights shine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sonnycreasy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonnycreasy/gifts).

> so this is my first time writing these characters so i tried something a little different! hopefully this pov works for you all and i hope you enjoy reading!  
title is from taylor swift's long live.

i. 

On any given day in the uppermost halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, an unassuming student may hear a categorical cacophony of sound. Most notable of these sounds is the buzz of thousands of students - possibly hundreds, no one is quite sure what Hogwarts’ yearly intake seems to be - as they hurry to their classes. This is accompanied with the occasional yelp as the staircase moves and the clipped voices of prefects warning younger students of the danger it can pose.

For those students who listen a little more closely to their immediate surroundings, there is a far more interesting sound at play. Two voices, often pitched low to avoid disturbing anyone else, and arguing. Or, perhaps more accurately, _bickering._

Professor Fell and Professor Crowley are well known amongst the school for not only being the first pair to share the duties of teaching a class, but for being the first pair to do so with such an inability to agree on anything. 

So, if an unassuming student were to stand just outside the classroom belonging to the Muggle Studies professors, this is the sort of dialogue they may find themselves overhearing. 

“Professor Fell, I understand that, for some reason, you believe Beethoven is the greatest thing to happen to Muggle music in their entire history but I simply believe that we should be exposing the students to more modern music.” That’s Professor Crowley. If you are ever looking for Professor Crowley, the best thing to do is to walk around, hissing like a snake. This, for no apparent reason, seems to attract him like a perfect flare. 

“And I believe that we can no longer consider Queen modern music so your strategy is flawed.” Which makes the second voice dearest Professor Fell. Where Professor Crowley is considered a slippery, sly fellow, Professor Fell is the epitome of hospitality. By his own admission, Professor Fell is something of a Southern pansy - a dandy that Oscar Wilde would be delighted to be associated with. 

In truth, the only reason the professors are permitted to teach together is their deft navigation of Muggle society. Between them, they manage to cover a scope that no other professor has ever seemed to manage before. 

Students who manage to get to grips with the two polarised teaching styles come out of Muggle Studies with the finest grades and, quite frankly, an incredible understanding of who Muggles really are. Professor Fell believes their class may be the reason that tolerance in the wizarding world has become far more widespread. Professor Crowley believes that’s a load of romanticised poppycock. _(No one talks about how Professor Crowley always has a fondness in his voice when he dismisses these ideas.)_

So, if you are a new student reading this, consider this a chronicle of how we, as a student body, discovered the long-standing tale of Professor Crowley and Professor Fell’s strange relationship. Perhaps you’ll be able to make more sense of it than we can. 

\-----------

ii 

Our first encounter with Professor Crowley and Professor Fell was in third year. We were all still bright and shiny from our first day back at school and the handful of us who had agreed to take Muggle Studies were still questioning what the class could truly entail. Surely we knew all that was relevant about Muggles? We were magical. They were not. They could not - and would not - learn about our magic. That was the relevant information. 

So, we all trailed into the class, found ourselves a seating plan that worked for us all and waited for our professor to appear. Professors, as it turned out. 

Professor Crowley entered the room first with a level of swagger that we assumed had to be falsified for the sake of the dramatics. Alas, it turns out that Professor Crowley does, in fact, just walk as though his knees have never once met each other. That was our first impression. Professor Crowley was wearing Muggle sunglasses. We still aren’t entirely sure why, considering that the Scottish Highlands are not exactly well known for their consistent hours of sunlight. 

Professor Fell followed behind with the kind of quiet assurance of someone who was very used to dealing with the strong presence of someone like Crowley. It did not, however, make him any less notable himself. There was inherently something very calming about him, from his pale curls to his soft tummy. Our first impression of Professor Fell was of someone who, despite their gentleness, was very capable of holding their own against Professor Crowley. 

Professor Crowley was the first to speak, from his position of leaning languorously against the desk as though he had very little care in the world. “So you’re the lot that are taking our class this year then?” 

We weren’t entirely sure what to do with that. Were we to answer? 

“Crowley, be nice to the children. We can’t scare them on their first day. I am Professor Fell and I’ll be teaching you for two of your four weekly Muggle Studies classes. This is Professor Crowley,” and, at this, Professor Crowley threw a hand up in a casual wave, “who will be teaching you for the other two classes.”

“Professor Fell prefers to talk about Muggle food and, frankly, ancient music and the like. I prefer to talk about the more interesting parts of Muggle culture like modern music and how the Muggles function in everyday life. Don’t get me started about their road systems,” he grumbled. 

Professor Fell smiled gently and wryly at us all. “Really, don’t. He doesn’t shut up about them.” 

“Yes, okay, thank you.” There was no bite to the words, like a fond old married couple who had the same argument every day. 

Perhaps that’s the most accurate description for them. Because this is the thing. Professor Crowley and Professor Fell should never work together. The more time we spent in their class, the more we started to figure out that they were near polar opposites.

Maybe that was the appeal. 

\-----------

iii. 

The next time that we wondered about Professor Fell and Professor Crowley wasn’t until the next year. For most of the year, we were all wrapped up in the excitement of the Triwizard Tournament and of sharing our school with other students. We momentarily forgot about our strange professors and their strange dynamic.

That was, until the week of the Yule Ball. Professor Crowley had been increasingly more aggravated for the past few weeks but we all chalked it down to his general demeanour. He was never the fluffiest of people, even if we did all think he was pretty cool. 

No, it wasn’t until one class with Professor Fell that we understood what was really going on. We were chattering away about the Yule Ball. Mindless things, y’know. The colour of our dresses or how expensive dress robes were or who our dates were going to be when one of the boys asked the fateful question. 

“Professor Fell, sir, do you have a date to the Yule Ball?” It was a casual question, not meant out of malice but out of curiosity. 

Professor Fell, however, immediately turned a very interesting shade of bright scarlet. “Ah, well, I don’t know if that’s entirely appropriate. I mean, no, I don’t, but I don’t think the teachers are meant to take dates. We shouldn’t anyway. Anyway. Back to Beethoven,” Professor Fell said hurriedly. 

Of course, the rumours began immediately. Was this why Professor Crowley had been so upset? Had he been rejected? It was enough to fuel us for the entire week until the Yule Ball itself rolled around. 

We had, for the most part, spent our time dancing and laughing and trying to see who could down their punch faster. Until one of us, my friend Elizabeth, noticed that Professor Crowley had been hiding in the corner all night. Sunglasses on, arms folded, distinct scowl. He was unhappy. Professor Fell was across the room, sitting quietly and picking at his food. Professor Fell never failed to clear his plate, especially of banquet food. Something was amiss in paradise. 

We took turns watching, just curious to see how the night would develop. Professor Crowley made the first move. Sighed and walked over to Professor Fell’s table and sat down to talk to him with a gentle incline of the head. After a while, it felt like a conversation we should never have been privy to. 

By the time the ball was over and we were all exhausted and complaining of aching feet, we noticed that neither Professor Fell or Professor Crowley were anywhere to be seen. We all trailed out, disappointed and quieting as tiredness set in. 

I was the one who spotted them. Tucked behind the ice sculpture and swaying together, still talking. I didn’t mention it. Thought it best to leave them to it, if truth be told. This is, however, meant to be a _complete_ chronicle so, for the sake of posterity, I suppose I’ll leave it in. 

\-----------

iv. 

Professor Fell and Professor Crowley disappeared when the Death Eaters took over Hogwarts. None of us were surprised. Not really. The new Muggle Studies teacher taught us hatred and cruelty and we forced ourselves to remember Professor Crowley and Professor Fell instead. They wouldn’t have wanted this for us. They would have wanted us to remember Queen and the correct way to pair wines and their finest playwrights. So that’s what we did. We passed Shakespeare in secret and revised old course material and hummed The Velvet Underground in the privacy of our dorms and prayed it would be enough to keep their spirits alive at the very least.

In all truth, we assumed they were dead. To teach anything positive about Muggles was a near death sentence when it came to the Death Eater’s rule. As far as we knew, they had been killed. Most of us survived the year. Most of us escaped the worst of the agony that the Carrows inflicted on the students. 

When the battle broke out, the last thing we expected was to see Professor Fell and Professor Crowley, back to back and surrounded by flying spells. We had never seen them work together before. Not like this. It was almost beautiful in a way. They seemed to instinctively know where the other was at any point. Professor Fell let loose a jet of scarlet light followed almost immediately by a flash of green light from Professor Crowley’s wand. It was perfect synchronicity and if it hadn’t been in a life-threatening battle, I think it would have been beautiful to watch. 

We lost track of them during the battle. We lost track of each other, really. It was difficult to keep anyone in view amongst all the chaos after all. When the battle came to an end, we wondered if we would see them amongst the dead. If we would see our friends and our lovers and the two strange, strange teachers piled up high with the rest of the casualties. 

There were a few losses. War does that. We found each other. Sat together and cried gently and waited to see who else we would lose. 

It was about an hour later that we first saw them. Professor Fell was leaning against Professor Crowley and they were talking in hushed, quiet tones. A few of us were close enough to snatch pieces of conversation as we tried to recover. 

“You should have been more careful, Zira. They could have gotten you,” Professor Crowley said softly.

“Yes, well, you looked like you were in trouble and we can’t have that,” Professor Fell added, voice just as gentle as he slanted a smile at Professor Crowley when he thought the other wasn’t looking. 

“No, we can’t,” Professor Crowley agreed. As he turned to look down at Professor Fell, the other man tore his gaze away instead. We figured that a literal war would have been enough to clarify what they were to one another but instead, we found that we were even more confused. 

They stayed there for several hours, as though they were just breathing each other in, revelling in the fact that they were alive. We could understand that much. 

In the end, none of us could face going back to Hogwarts after the war. Professor Fell and Professor Crowley still teach there, sharing their Muggle Studies class as they always have. Perhaps they’ve figured out how to teach without fighting. Perhaps you guys have figured out what their relationship really is. 

Either way, I hope they’re happy. We all do. They deserve that.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on twitter @sapphicvers and pls feel free to drop me a comment below!


End file.
